


Tempering Storms and Cutting Vines

by ThePrimeOne



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrimeOne/pseuds/ThePrimeOne
Summary: It takes her by surprise initially, but a small smile appears on her face. Petra closes her eyes and leans into Ashe's touch.Heat rises to the tip of his ears and down to his neck. Ashe opens his mouth to speak, but Petra does it first."I forgive you."That promptly shuts him up.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Tempering Storms and Cutting Vines

**Author's Note:**

> Back again with another old WIP. This might be ooc? I'm not sure how I'm feeling about these two and their actions and dialogue in this fic specifically tbh.

Lonato, Christophe, and circumstances behind their deaths had been weighing heavily on his mind for months after the Blue Lions had protected Rhea from the Western Church.

Caspar, being the loud mouth he is, often spoke of his father's strength in battle, the same man who slew her father idolizing him even if the man cared little for Caspar than his brother.

Ashe couldn't concentrate in class after that mission. Uncharacteristic, seeping anger crept through him despite his best efforts to suppress it. It caused enough of a concern to his classmates that their Professor began to notice. She called him in after class, the young woman worried as if she could see the emptiness in his eyes.

Ashe smiled. "Really, Professor, I'm fine. I've just been feeling a little distracted is all. It won't happen again."

Petra had become more aloof and standoff-ish, Dorothea the first to notice; spirits bless her. The kind, calm, and collected person that she'd grown to be was no mask. Petra knew that much. After being locked away in Enbarr for so long, she'd vowed to become stronger, better than them, yet a tiny seed of anger sprouted within her, its vines gripping her heart like it did them.

Petra insisted with a bow to Professor Manuela that she was okay. "I assure you that I am feeling well, but I am often thinking thoughts of my home. It is making me feel… uneasy."

He once saw a roaring, harrowing ferocity from Petra that betrayed her calm, collected, yet bright and excitable demeanor.

She once heard the hollow words that someone as kind as Ashe should never have to utter, his voice dripping with venom.

A fit of crushing anger twisted by grief, that to each other, they both hid it as well as they wore it: both terribly and perfectly at once.

Everything came to a head in the night after the holy tomb incident, when they found themselves alone in the lantern-lit training grounds late at night. Circumstances for how they got there or why they were there were quickly forgotten as soon as they began sparring.

Petra's quick to throw out the first attack that caught Ashe off guard, slashing at his left arm. The contact made him flinch in pain, but before striking back at her arm. Petra didn't let up, the fierce demeanor she only saw once directed at him, just as the dark, hollow and concentrated gaze Petra saw some months ago was directed at her.

They felt shivers running down their spines in a strange fear they seldom felt.

Eventually, itch to lash out had reached an unexpected breaking point. 

Clashes of wooden practice swords continue to echo for some time. Soon, Ashe and Petra's sparring session slowly becomes a blind slugfest, Ashe and Petra driven by the need to temper the storm of rage and cut down the vines of heart-gripping hatred, respectively.

In that one critical moment, their opponents changed in a fit of explosive, blinding rage, the Western Church Bishop and Count Bergliez taunting each other with their presence.

Petra leaps at Count Bergliez and tackles him to the ground. She swiftly pulls out a hunting knife, one of the few keepsakes she had from Brigid, one that she kept with her at all times and points it inches away from his throat.

By the same token, when the Western Church's Bishop had tackled Ashe, the knife that Christophe had gifted him years ago shortly before being dragged away to his execution, found its way out from its sheathing and pointed at the Bishop's throat.

They wanted to end it at that moment. Ashe's hand twitched, eager to swiftly and desperately sink his blade into the Bishop's neck and Petra to give Count Bergliez a slow, agonizing death, both worthy of the agony they had to endure.

Their ragged breaths continued in sync for a few moments longer until their anger melted away.

Beneath her and above him, they quickly realise, is someone they knew to be a friend. One that confided in the other for many things both mundane to personal, now baring their fangs at each other in a desperate attempt to reconcile their pent-up feelings. Their realisation turns from confusion to horror, and embarrassment when they realise how compromising their positions were, and how dangerously close they were to ending their friend's lives.

Petra throws herself away off of Ashe and attempts to scramble to her feet in silent horror. Ashe grasps her palm lightly before she could retreat, his touch filling her with a strange warmth despite having pointed a blade at his neck.

"I know a little faith magic. I can heal you, Petra."

The Professor was strangely insistent Ashe learn some form of healing magic, despite not being adept at using it and close contact with wounds being necessary to properly utilise it, unlike Mercedes, but now he was grateful for it.

They quickly retreat to the undercover seating area when rain clouds begin to form overhead.

There are multiple bruises on her arms, two on her shoulder, two on her torso close to her breasts, and finally two on her face, she points out, and Ashe bites his lips. He stands to take her to Professor Manuela, but Petra stops him. It's well past curfew, and they'll only stand to get into trouble should they go knocking on Manuela's door so late, she points out.

He sits back down, though still unsure. Petra holds out her arm and points to the bruises he caused, the pain he inflicted on her. Ashe presses his hand on the injuries lightly. He continues this and stops every time she points at a new bruise he caused, careful to ask permission to touch her. Ashe knew that it wasn't proper as an aspiring Knight, to have close contact with someone like her, who bore royal blood. Every time she says yes, he can't help but utter a quiet 'sorry' for each time he hurt her.

There's no point, he eventually realises. What is done is done, and Petra is a forgiving girl. Yet perhaps it is not only her he is apologising to when he quietly utters them. Maybe that's why Ashe feels guilty apologising to her. He isn't apologising to her- at least not anymore.

Just ghosts of the past he can't ever hope to hold again, like the way he holds her.

He remains silent for a while, focusing his entire being on healing her. She then points out the bruises on her torso that are closer to her breasts than he cares to admit. He gulps and shakily raises his palms towards them- but stops to look at her for consent.

_Are you sure? Is it okay?_

She silently nods.

_For you, yes._

There's a sharp inhale from Petra the moment he presses his hands against her left side, and the right side of her stomach and Ashe freezes upon contact with the soft skin he can feel through the fabrics. His touch is supposed to be chaste- they both know it is, but he can't help but feel his heartbeat potentially betray the thought.

Thankfully his instincts usually reserved for battle kicks in, and a white light shines alone surrounded by the poorly lit and dreary air. It's kinder and warmer than what they had been to each other before, darkness guiding their actions. Regret fills them again.

Thankfully he still has some magic left, and her body begins to heal itself, the bruise fading away back to normalcy.

He looks up to the final bruises, two that are swelling upon her face. The process repeats itself, but this time he cups his hands around her face almost unconsciously, staring into her eyes that mesmerize him.

It takes her by surprise initially, but a small smile appears on her face. Petra closes her eyes and leans into Ashe's touch.

Heat rises to the tip of his ears and down to his neck. Ashe opens his mouth to speak, but Petra does it first.

"I forgive you."

That promptly shuts him up.

"You have been very apologetic, but I must give you my apologies, Ashe," she whispered, more intimately than before. "I was letting my anger dictate my actions. I should not have hurt you."

Ashe shakes his head. "It's okay, Petra. So long as you're okay, then that's what matters."

Her smile falters, perturbed by his sentiments. "Ashe… I am appreciating that very much, but please do not be saying that. I cannot be accepting that."

Petra feels the magic slow down, Ashe distracted by her refusal.

"Why? Petra, I _hurt_ you. As a friend, as a boy, as a commoner, I shouldn't have lashed out like that. It's not fair on you, and it's not right," Ashe gives her a quizzical look, a deep frown following after.

She raises her arms and grips his wrists, lightly tugging them away from her face, the healing incomplete. He gets the idea and jerks his hands away.

"O-oh, I'm sorry, I should've realised you didn't…"

"Ashe." Petra's voice cuts him off entirely. She shakily raises her hands towards his shoulders. "May I?

"Oh. Uh, sure- oh!"

Petra's whole body shifts closer to him, and a sharp gasp escapes Ashe's lips. With her arms thrown around his neck, her face rests on her arms and against his face. The feeling their cheeks' warmth against the other's becomes apparent.

"It anger was leading my actions. Because of it, I was hurting a friend. We are both doing wrong, Ashe. But please know that your pain is not lesser than mine," she hoarsely whispers. Ashe wants to refute her, but the words die on his tongue.

"You may be a commoner, and I may be a Princess, but this pain is familiar. These bruises… it is like our burdens of the heart. These are ones we can both heal together. Not just alone." She shifts her head more comfortably against him.

"I have understanding of your knightly values. But please. You do not have to be bearing the burden of healing us both. Ashe, you deserve to be happy too."

Goddess above, this girl was too good for him. To hear this from a Princess to a commoner like him made her words all the more impactful.

"I am sorry, Ashe. For hurting you. For being a fool and making you be the person I am taking my anger out on. I hope you can be forgiving me."

Ashe's mind goes blank. All he could at that moment amongst his racing heart and mind was reciprocate the hug. His head rests on the crook of her neck.

"Oh Petra… of course, I forgive you too," he whispers back to her. "You're too good for me."

Petra chuckles, and it's like music to his ears. 

"Never. Not for you," Petra hums blissfully.

His heart skips a beat and doesn't stop beating faster.

"...You really are an amazing person, Petra," he whispers, so warm, caring, and intimate, something neither hasn't felt in years.

Ashe feels it. Petra feels it too. A specific something in their heart-healing again after years of hollowness.

The moment he heard those words, they embraced each other tightly, clinging so desperately never to let go.

Petra Macneary and Ashe Ubert refuse to break down into despair. 

Ashe vowed this soon after his parents passed. Though his parent's passing, actions as a thief, Christophe's execution, and Lonato's deaths taking a toll on him, he never let it break him. Petra vowed this soon after she learned her father died. Despite her and her father's name being spat on by Imperial nobility, the Empire taking her hostage, making Brigid a vassal state, she refused to break.

For those who passed on and haunted their dreams. For those who still live that they hold dear. They couldn't allow such things to get the better of them.

But just this once they let their guards down. Just this once, the ghosts disappear, and their family and friends linger far from their minds. Just this once, it's only them. Just this once, they let it all out, all of their remaining pent up anger and sorrow.

The sky above the monastery rumbles, bringing with it harsh weather.

Fodlan's Goddess and Brigid's Spirits grieves and weeps, rain patterning against the ground.

Petra and Ashe sob quietly in each other's arms until all but one dim flame in the lanterns that keeps them warm falls dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully that wasn't too bad! Don't be afraid to give kudos and leave comments, they're all very much appreciated as usual!
> 
> Also, I'll probably drop an update for An Act, Just For You, tomorrow (maybe) so keep an eye out for that.


End file.
